The Path Toward Inevitability
by Dreamweaver74
Summary: [I,Robot] Set after the films events, how will Dr. Susan Calvin deal with some unexpected emotions? And how will humanity deal with their fear of an inevitable future? CH 5 Added!
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I loved the movie I, Robot. So much so, that I promptly went to the bookstore and bought the paperback adaptation, or so I thought. The stories within had very little to do with the events in the movie, save for a few characters. But it was fantastic anyway, as I got to discover a new world of robots and circular logic, as well as more insight into Susan Calvin, and well, I was pretty much beside myself!

I was hoping there would be an easy to find I, Robot category on here, but, alas, you have to do quite a bit of detective work to find them. I'm glad to see there are some wonderful stories though, making a the search a worthwhile one, indeed! But I, as usual, digress.

I thought it would be interesting to explore some of Susan's thoughts after the events of the movie, and on a larger scale, where humanity might be headed, and that is where this story begins.

I,Robot is the property of the estate ofIsaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

* * *

**The Path Toward Inevitability**

_Surprisingly gentle hands caressing her skin, sending shivers across every inch they touch...a momentary lapse of breathing, and she is tumbling into the unknown, but he is there to catch her...always he is there....water, or something akin to it, washing over, around, through them both...joining impossibly, how can it be possible?...and she is trying to be logical, even now...but there isn't any room for such linear thought, there is only sensation...rational thought doesn't exist in this place, not when the human heart is concerned...she lands, blissfully, contentedly resting her head against his chest, and as she drifts into subconciousness, the last thing she remembers is the soft blue glow that surrounds them both...loving blue eyes locked with hers...._

Dr. Susan Calvin woke with a start. She was sweating, and feeling more than just a bit embarrassed. She attributed it all to the high levels of stress she'd dealt with as of late, and attempted to force herself back to sleep.

Sleep wasn't going to be that accommodating.

Frustrated, she sat up, and determined not to let a single thought linger over the dream started to run through a series of mathematical permutations designed to help her focus whenever stress threatened to hinder her focus. It was working rather well, that is until she got to the solution of .0027614z/81, which was thecore to the workings of a very special positronic brain.

Sonny's, to be exact.

"Dammit."

She got up, and after taking a quick shower and changing into a less abused nightshirt, Susan decided to abandon sleep for the time being, and headed for the kitchen for a strong cup of coffee and something even stronger to put in it.

Since the incident with VIKI, Susan had been plagued with a number of nightmares, which she knew would be inevitable, considering all that she, Spooner and Sonny had gone through. But in the weeks that passed, she had been in a position to step away from USR for the time being (to her mind, it was more like a precursor to being laid off while they tried to put a good enough spin on multiple deaths within and outside of their walls, and a fleet of rogue robots). This allowed her to recuperate. It also allowed her to make many a trip to Spooner's flat and in the process, visit with and observe, Sonny. It was determined for now that he would be better able to protect Sonny, especially since anti-robot sentiment was reaching frightening levels.

With her training, the nightmares were relatively easy to handle. It was the other dreams that had her perplexed. Tonight's had been the worst, the most disconcerting. They were leading the doctor down a path she wasn't sure she wanted to travel.

Sitting with her cup of steaming hot coffee and more than a little Jack Daniels, she allowed herself to ponder over the possibilities. Logic dictated that Sonny was a collection of complex materials and hyper-advanced positronic components.

_But he is more, far more than that, isn't he, doctor? _She frowned. He is more than merely self aware, a remarkable feat in and of itself. He has emotions, strong ones, and unlike most humans I know, isn't afraid to use them. His is heroic and clever, and so very charming in his innocence of how the world works. And..._dare I say it? _Very cute. He doesn't hide his feelings and there is a genuine respect for me. Susan shook her head, thinking that the action would somehow keep the next thought from floating to the surface.

The doctor knew very well that it was an exercise in futility.

_You have feelings for him, don't you? Love, perhaps?_

She had to consider the ramifications of that statement further. What was love anyway? When was the last time she'd allowed herself to feel anything near it? Mankind didn't fit into the equation. They were far too irrational, prone to dishonesty, duplicity, cruelty, a supreme lack of logic. She thought of Herbie, and Milton. That was years ago, but even now, the pain, the embarrassment of that fiasco, made her shudder involuntarily.

Someone in the past that she allowed herself to care for, someone she went to incredibly foolish lengths to make aware. Someone she thought loved her back. No, wait, someone she _knew _loved her back. At least that is what Herbie led her to believe, wasn't it?

How could she had been so stupid? A supreme lack of logic indeed, she laughed bitterly.

_And few acts were more cruel than her own treatment of...no, call it for what it was, _murder _of Herbie, a robot who's only flaw was it's ability to read minds. And inability to break the Laws of Robotics. How he'd cowered when she advanced on him, hateful words, incredibly emotional words thrust at him. A knife could have been, might as well have been used, and it would not have been any more horrific. She caught him in an endless circle of logic, and his inability to solve it (how could he, really?) destroyed him._

If I hadn't been so caught up in irrational emotions, then who knows how much we could've learned from RB34?

She realized she was shaking, as though these were yesterday's events and not the remnants of many years ago.

The soft pipping of her phone broke her from those thoughts. Who could be calling at this hour, she wondered. She pressed the button to receive the call, and the screen slowly irised to show the caller.

Against her better reasoning, she forgot how to breathe.

On the screen, stood Sonny. She couldn't be certain, but it looked like he was outside near a hospital.

He leaned into the viewer, until all she could see was the brilliant blue of his eyes. "Dr. Calvin? I must speak with you."

She regained her composure, and with it, a healthy dose of concern. Sonny was not the same robot she'd visited just 10 hours ago. He was very distraught, and looked as if he couldn't trust his own eyes, as if he was unsure he could even trust her.

"Sonny, are you all right? What's the matter?"

Sonny's face took on the appearance of one who'd lost their best friend, and before the words came, Susan fell into the nearest chair, fully aware of what was coming.

"It's Detective Spooner, Dr. Calvin. I'm afraid he is missing."


	2. Travelers and Diversions on the Path

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who took time out to leave a kind word! I'm having a ball with this, and hope you enjoy the next installment. I'm working on the next chapter now, as we must see what Sonny and the good doctor are up to. It would seem that Susan is going to have her hands full!

I,Robot is the property of the estate of Isaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

**Spoonerville (aka Greater Chicago) **

**Evening:**

Althea Martin locked the door of her townhouse and made sure her little boy, Bailey, was near.

"Come on, sweety. We have to hurry." She took his little hand in hers, and they walked to their destination. There weren't many people on the streets, not since the whole business with the killer robots. She had been sad to see theirs go, but she knew it was for the best. What if they 'malfunctioned' again? That night had been terrifying, even though she truly believed Ivan wouldn't have harmed them. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the business card that told her where tonight's meeting was. It was only her third time going, and she didn't agree with everything they said, but some of it made sense.

Maybe the world _would_ be better off without them.

She placed the card back in her bag, satisfied they were headed the right way.

They stopped, waiting at the crosswalk, when Bailey pulled away from Althea and ran towards the busy intersection.

"Bailey, NO!" She ran out after him, but she knew she wouldn't reach him in time. The FedEx robot, passing by at the time, took 0.000001 of a second to notice, and before her eyes could register, her son was being handed back to her.

"Th-thank you," she sobbed.

"Mommy, why are we going home?"

She watched as the machine picked up the packages and continued down the street.

She crumpled the card on the sidewalk, and walked back to their home.

"I don't think it's the right place for us."

Connor Kenning moved as fast as a slightly debilitated man of eighty-five could. The meeting was going to start in a few minutes, and he hadn't been late for one yet. The apartment complex was located in one of the shadier parts of the city, but that fact didn't bother him in the least. The tech was older, and thankfully, there were hardly any dirty robots around to cause any trouble.

209A, the faux gold numbers read. He checked the card that had been passed to him earlier in the park. They couldn't run the risk of being discovered, thus all of the meetings were to take place in a different location each time.

He ambled in, and looked around, wondering where that nice young woman he usually sat by and her son were. He finally took a seat next to a pleasant-looking woman doing her knitting. She smiled warmly, and handed him a pamphlet:

**The End Of Humanity**

**(and how you can prevent it)**

The booklet was modest looking enough on the outside, but the inside was a completely different story. It gave detailed instructions on how to cause the most harm to the 'Robot Menace', places for the most effective attack on 'Robot Loving Humans', and the latest ways to create objects causing maximum damage using minimal tech.

The back included helpful tips for those on low income budgets and ways to start one's very own chapter of the Society for Humanity.

A hush came over the room, and all eyes settled to the front. A woman, no older than twenty eight years of age, stood at the makeshift podium in front of the fireplace. In any circle, she would be a stunner, and she was well aware of the effect she had on the men (and a couple of the women) in the room.

Her jet black hair was curled just so and fell down her back in luscious wave after wave. Her intense gray eyes sparkled, and held the room in their intelligent gaze. Her lips were ruby-red, and she offset the bordering-on-being-a-pinup look with a precisioned-pressed navy blue suit with ankle-length skirt. Topped off with a pair of patent leather black pumps complete with heels of sensible length.

In short, Pamela Mortimer was a conservative's wet dream come to life.

"Welcome to one of the most important gatherings of concerned members of humanity. I am so glad at the turnout this evening, and enormously excited to be standing before all of you, the architects of a new age!" She began to pace, making sure she made eye contact with every member of the Society.

"This truly is an exciting time we are living in. Before we start, I'd just like to say that I think I could stop after tonight's meeting, and never have to speak at another, for I _know_ all of you in this room," she paused for emphasis, sweeping a delicately manicured hand toward the crowd, "could carry out the tasks set forth, and save the fate of humanity!"

She smiled brilliantly, knowing that she had them hooked. It was the same speech she used at every single meeting, and it never failed to amaze her how well it worked.

Every single time.

And it didn't matter if a few people were lost along the way; there were always many more, ready and willing to fight the good fight. She spoke eloquently, and had the crowd captivated, as usual.

Hours passed, and after going through every page in the book, supplies were passed out, teams were created, and plans set forth for the next poisonous gathering.

"Thank you, all of you, for being present tonight. With all of us working together, the robot menace **will be defeated**!"

Kenning stepped out into the brisk night air, invigorated. These truly were exciting times to be living in, as the pretty girl had said, and he was excited to play his part as architect of the new age.

He passed a grocery store on the way home to his far less modest dwelling, wondering for half a second if his guest might want to do with some dinner.

'Nah,' he decided, passing it by. 'The kid is young, he can last a few more days without food. Maybe I can give him a little water, but that will be enough. Can't go showing kindness to a _robot lover_.'

He whistled a rousing version of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" all along the path home.


	3. A House in the Country

Author's note: Well, here we are at chapter three, a slightly longer one than the last two, hope no one minds too terribly. Had a bit to say, and for anything that isn't fully answered here, don't worry, it shall be.

Again, a most hearty thank you to all of you who were so kind to leave some kind words of your own; they mean tons! Btw, I went back over chapter two, and i didn't even realize that I was using names from some of the good Doctor's other works. And even more perplexing, Ms.Mortimer's last name is the first of one of the pivotal characters in 'Lenny'.

I'd never read the book until just this weekend.

Makes one wonder if there aren't a few ghosts in my machine....

Disclaimer: I,Robot is the property of the estate of Isaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

Susan grabbed the closest articles of clothing she had; a pale gray sweater and black slacks. Her keys were hanging near the door, as was her black leather jacket. She ran as fast as she could toward her car.

That the rover could just as easily been sent to Sonny and brought back to her never crossed her mind. This new development scared her, and that fact that she was frightened scared her even more.

She set the car on auto; in her agitated state, she really didn't trust that she'd be able to get there any faster driving herself.

Afraid of what she was going to find, she put her ear bud in and prepared to hail Lt. Bergin. Halfway to her destination, a call came through.

"Answer," she called without thinking.

"Hello, is this Dr. Susan Calvin?" The voice wasn't immediately familiar, but she felt she could trust whoever was on the other line.

"Yes, I am. And who are you?"

"This is Lt. John Bergin. We met a month ago after all that fracas over at USR. I've been trying to contact Del for hours now, and I was wondering if maybe he was with you."

"Actually, lieutenant I have reason to think he has been kidnapped."

"What?"

"I understand your disbelief, but trust me, I've seen a great many things that would be filed under 'unbelievable', but it doesn't make them any less a reality."

She filled him in on what she knew, which wasn't very much. He offered to provide her with an armed escort and someone to keep an eye on her place, but she told him that probably wouldn't be necessary as she wasn't sure if home was the best place to be.

The car made it's turn into Sisters of Mercy Medical Center, but there was no one to be found. After a minute of scanning the lot, she thought she noticed a flash of blue between the hospital and the garbage area.

Susan pulled in, and making sure there wasn't anyone following her, stepped out to investigate. The air was frigid, and she immediately wished for a warmer jacket than the one she had. She brought an automatic torch with her and aimed it in the general area.

"Light," she whispered, and a soft beam extended from the torch. She moved closer, trying to be as stealth as possible. Her ears caught the sound of steady beeping. It was right in front of her, in the trash bin.

"Sonny? Is that you?"

She knew he was better than average at hiding.

A barely audible scraping sound was heard, and a moment later, a deceptively delecate-looking metallic hand appeared over the edge of the bin, bending it out of shape. Another moment and the NS-5 was climbing out, looking confused and rather odd.

Susan ran the light over him; he appeared to be intact, but there was some damage to his chest plate and as she ran the torch lower, the fingers on his right hand were bent at an impossible angle.

"Oh god, Sonny, you're a mess!" She was trying her best to keep calm, and failing miserably. She took him by his good hand, and put him into the rover. Making sure that he was secure in the passenger seat, she got in and said, "Home, now."

Sonny turned, eyes wide, almost pleading, "No, you can't go back there, Dr. Calvin. It isn't safe."

"But I have to. It is the only place I can get you patched up right now. All my spare equipment is there."

"It will be all right. I think I know of a place we will be safe, at least for now." He turned around, and called out in a still tentative voice,

"729 Elmwood Place, please."

Susan frowned, glancing at him.

"Where are we going?"

"To Father's cabin. He will have all the supplies we need, and we can plan how I'm going to find Detective Spooner from there."

"_You're _going to find him? I'm afraid you are mistaken, _we _are doing this together. Spooner's a friend of mine, too." She realized what she'd just said and allowed a small smile to pass her lips.

Friends. What a novel idea.

They sped away, settled back in their seats. Each one quietly thinking of better times, or at least less troublesome ones.

"_Sonny, I'd like you to meet Dr. Susan Calvin. She is USR's premier robopsychiatrist," Alfred Lanning said. _

"_The Only robopsychiatrist," she replied ruefully._

"_Susan, this is Sonny." She had to smile, Lanning was positively beaming with paternal pride. 'I suppose that's where the name came from,' she mused. _

_It was amazing at how far Lanning had gone with this particular NS-5. His responses were natural, as though he wasn't a mass of gears and polymers, but a human, albeit an unusual looking one. There was obvious affection shared, and it warmed her to know that, even though Alfred never had a family of his own, Sonny was the next best thing, and probably much better. _

_She set down her data file and he walked over, holding out a hand for her to shake. _

"_Dr. Calvin, it is a pleasure, Father has told me a lot about you." His blue eyes were bright and brilliant, and she had a hard time remembering that he wasn't alive, at least in the traditional sense. _

"_Would you like to hear a story?" He calmly asked her. He was very glad to have a visitor, especially one as smart and fascinating as Calvin._

_For months, Dr. Calvin 'visited' on a regular basis, primarily to collect data for the head of US Robots, Lawrence Robertson. As she became better aquatinted with Sonny, she noticed other things about him; he was like none of the other robots she'd ever worked with._

_Less than a month before Lanning's death, events occurred that resulted in the termination of their work together._

_They were in the middle of testing Calvin liked to call her 'catch-up' work. This was the time to complete some of the more intense mental exams that they did not have enough time for previously. _

_They sat at the stainless steel table in Lanning's laboratory, across from each other._

"_Sonny, I'm going to show you a series of photographs, and I would like for you to tell me what feelings come to mind when you see them. And remember, do not tell me what you think I want to hear, just your true impressions of the pictures as I show them. Are you ready?"_

_He nodded, "I am ready, Dr. Calvin."_

The CMAT, or Calvin Mental Acuity Test, measures a robots response to various visual stimuli, to gauge if the subject will respond according to the inherent self controls provided by the Three Laws.

_The test progressed without a hitch until Susan revealed a picture of a broken window. _

_It was immediate; Sonny's reaction was off the charts. He would not speak, and Susan was afraid that his circuits had overloaded. _

"_Sonny, what's wrong?"_

_Nothing._

"_Please, talk to me," she was getting more and more unsettled._

_Still, nothing._

"_SONNY! Snap out of it!" She shouted, and this seemed to do the trick._

"_I- I saw something, Dr. Calvin. That picture, it was in a dream I had not many nights ago. Someone was falling from a window, and I tried to save them, for what else would I do? But they wouldn't let me. I know, it doesn't make much sense, does it? But that is what I dreamt. And I am frightened of what it might mean."_

_The words he spoke, if they came from anyone else would not have bothered Susan in the least. Everyone has dreams that can sometimes be quite intense, even to the point of seeming to happen. _

_But this was not the mental rambling of another human, looking for someone to say that it would be all right. This was a highly advanced robot, who was making it his sole mission to confound and amaze her at every turn._

_She had multiple degrees and years of experience working with nothing but robots, from the most rudimentary, to the highest in technological complexity. Combined with her knowledge of psychology, this made her the very best (if not the only) person to figure out exactly what was going on with Sonny. _

_It didn't mean that she would be able to, though. _

_She spent more and more of her free time working with him, and Dr. Lanning. For the first two weeks, it was smooth going, not any less perplexing, but she seemed to be making progress. The only thing more odd than Sonny's vision was Alfred Lanning's growing detachment. On more than one occasion, he became short with her and acted as though he had no time to listen to her findings._

_A week later, and Lanning forbade her from any further visits._

_The week after that, Lanning was dead._

_From a fall from the thirty-second window at USR._

_And from there, all hell had broken loose._

Three hours later, the car stopped. Susan looked out the window but it was so dark that she couldn't see much. The only sounds were crickets outside and the steady 'breathing' Sonny was making. She looked over at him; he was sleeping, obviously exhausted from whatever happened at Spooner's. His eyelids were fluttering, and she could tell he was deep in dreams. She really didn't want to disturb him, but circumstances wouldn't allow for such civility.

"Sonny," she spoke, shaking him gently. "Wake up, we're here."

His eyes opened, and the car's interior slowly turned a calm, blue glow.

He was noticeably calmer, even before they stepped over the threshold. This was somewhere he had never been, but it made him feel better nevertheless. He imagined that this was his home, that he had grown up within it's walls, and not that of a laboratory.

The interior was dark at first, then slowly the room grew brighter, until they were able to make out a very traditional-looking cabin, complete with pine furniture, plank flooring, and a roaring fire.

"How did you know this was here?"

"When my father slept, he would sometimes speak of a place that he had enjoyed visiting on vacations. Whenever I would ask him about upon waking though, he would not tell me. It was as though he was afraid that VIKI might discover where it was and destroy it. I suppose he was right to be so cautious." He looked pensive, and moved further into the cabin.

Susan looked at the photographs along the mantle and pick up one that looked like it had been taken more than twenty years ago. Lanning was there, but younger, with the cockiness that often times accompanies the gifted. He was standing with a group of other scientists, and what appeared to be an early-model NS-4. A caption had been drawn in the lower right corner, and she brought it closer to her eyes.

_**The new renaissance Dec 12, 1992**_

_**those who know where to look will find**_

_**the answer**_

She turned to ask Sonny if he had any idea what it meant, but he was already there beside her. She fought to keep her wits about her, but it wasn't easy with him so close. He was battered, and very stressed. He'd been through far too many emotional upsets for someone so new to any type of feeling, much less the kind that could drive any ordinary person to a nervous breakdown.

Now with Spooner missing, she wasn't quite sure how his burgeoning emotions would handle it.

Her heart ached.

She placed her hand on his face; his outward temperature was close to hers, unusual for a robot, but not so much for one with two positronic cores. His skin wasn't quite flawless, not with the damage he'd sustained. But it was still soft and pleasant to the touch. She noticed that while she did this, his eyes began to flutter shut, and she worried that his system had perhaps suffered some kind of internal injury- he didn't appear to be breathing.

"Are you all right," she half-whispered, afraid that he was shutting down.

She was about to check on the secondary core in his chest when his left hand rose and held on to hers.

"Thank you," he said, for the first time smiling since she'd picked him up from the hospital.

"What for?" She was closer to him than she'd ever been, and was quite pleased with her self-control.

"For everything. I am not sure how to explain it, but I feel a combination of emotions when I'm with you, and it always makes me feel better. They make me feel as though nothing can be too terrible, that everything will turn out for the best." He paused, and not wanting to lose his nerve, pulled Susan closer to him. He had never done this before and wasn't sure he was doing it the right way, but instinct overruled and he held her tightly, making sure to be mindful of her much lighter bone structure.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her mind making it more and more easy to stop trying to rationalize everything, and just enjoy the moment.

"I felt a deep, unrelenting sadness when Father died, and I never thought that anything would be ok again. I was afraid to die, but a part of me welcomed it too. I felt like I deserved it, and at the very least, I would be where he was. But you and Detective Spooner restored my faith." He pulled away, looking deep into her eyes.

"Thank you for being such a good friend."

She swallowed, nodding. A friend, he thinks of me as a friend. Of course he does. His friend.

And nothing more.

She pulled away, before the tears threatened to make her feel more humiliated than she already did.

"Well, you are welcome, but, um, I really think we should find some tools to get you back to normal, yes?" She exited the living room, and went in search of  
Lanning's robot repair shop.


	4. Breakfast, Bad Feelings, and a Bit of Tr...

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for reviewing; it means a lot!

This chapter was a bit of a challenge; lots I wanted to say, but not so much that it would seem as though I was rambling! I want to say that this is one of the hardest chapters yet, but I think that title will soon be handed over to chapters five and six, oh well. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I, Robot is the property of the estate of Isaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

* * *

Susan woke the next morning, not feeling very rested. It had been a long and mentally tiresome evening. Combined with the stress of trying to fix Sonny and help him extract the memories of what happened, and she was feeling less than sociable. Trying to discover what had happened before Sonny's phone call was fruitless; she was too upset, and trying to fall back on her training didn't help. 

She decided to call it a night, even though the 'night' had passed into dawn an hour prior. She knew her behavior was going to have an adverse effect on him, but by that time, she just didn't care.

She turned so she could get a view of the woods outside; the sun was just beginning to come up, and she estimated that put the clock at a little before 6 am. It was quiet, and beautiful. She tried to remember the last time she'd gone somewhere, anywhere to rest and realized this was the first time.

And this was hardly a vacation of any kind.

Here she was, near her mid-thirties, and she'd:

Never taken any time off for herself. The few so-called vacations were always sponsored by USR, which meant they were always working holidays. Not that she would really know how to separate herself from the work, anyway. Always too much to do, too many opportunities to learn something important that taking a vacation might prevent her from doing.

Never been married. That was a no-brainer. With the exception of the redoubtable Mr. Milton Ashe, there had been no one she would even consider spending an evening with, let alone walk down the isle for. She snorted, Susan Calvin, married?

Right. Perhaps when pigs flew, hell froze over, and guys like Detective Spooner grew a brain.

Never had a child. No, that wasn't entirely true. There had been Lenny, and regardless of whatever her other colleagues said (or failed to say, for she could tell they talked about her when her back was turned), he was a wonderful experience. A mystery to the very end, when his circuits simply stopped working. They never did discover what caused him to behave the way he did, but to her, it really made no difference. He was the closest thing to a child she would ever have, and he had proven that a robot could learn adaptively, even if it was considered little more than an idiot.

Thanks to that experience, new ways of teaching children were discovered, and Susan could say she was really proud of that.

Never fallen in love.

Well, the last one was up to debate. She wasn't quite sure what she felt for the NS-5 in the other room.

No, she was. It most certainly wasn't love, it couldn't possibly be that. Since real love usually meant you needed some kind of reciprocation.

And she wasn't getting that. Since she was just a friend, after all.

It was too early to think such heavy thoughts. She made the attempt to try to get a little more sleep, but her nose picked up the faint, appealing, aroma of breakfast, causing a discordant reply from her stomach.

"Pesky appetite," she sighed, rising.

She pulled on her pants, and left her steel blue t-shirt on, forgoing the sweater for now. Instead of the boots she had been wearing, there at the foot of her bed lay a pair of fluffy gray slippers. They hadn't been there before, which meant that someone had to have entered her room and dropped them off as she slept.

This was getting more and more complicated all the time.

-

Sonny started the coffee and searched for something else to fix. He noticed that Dr. Calvin had been acting odd the night before, and hadn't said much as she repaired his various injuries. Then she tried to get him to remember what happened before he called her, and that hadn't gone over too well. She was being too brusque, too unfriendly to him.

And he had no idea why.

The Laws dictated that he help her however he could, and that was what he had tried to do, to the best of his ability. But her approach was completely wrong, so very decidedly un-Susan Calvin like. She was not having a conversation with him, as in their previous times together. It was more of an attack. In fact, it was as though she didn't really care what had happened to him, and while his emotions were new, and he was sometimes unsure of how to process them, he was very aware that what he felt after talking to her was a most unpleasant feeling.

He felt hurt, alone, and afraid.

After a time, Sonny knew that trying to continue in that manner was not going to prove very fruitful, and before he even realized it, he simply stopped answering her questions.

In short, the events leading to the sudden disappearance of Del Spooner were still a mystery. Without an opportunity to get a decent night's sleep, he was without the advantage of a dream or even a short slip into an alpha state to pull any of the memories to the surface.

This was new to him, everything was, really. With Dr. Lanning's demise, there was no one else to help him, guide him on the path to his humanity, or advise him on how to help his brethren on theirs. Del and Susan were the only ones left, but one was missing, and the other suddenly inexplicably cruel.

There was fear, and another emotion, one that had come to the surface in the wake of current events.

Anger.

How much nerve she had to turn on him in such a manner! Could she not see that he had been through a lot, and the memories were nigh to impossible to dredge up, especially when they were being coaxed with an iron touch?

He didn't like feeling this way; it ran counter to his core programming. He found that he enjoyed being around Susan, loved listening to her voice, so calm and logical. Loved watching her move, so precise and orderly. Loved the way she wore her hair, the way she smelled, the rare times she laughed. Just thinking of her made something inexplicable happen within him. He couldn't pinpoint what subroutine was responsible, but it definitely _didn't _run counter to his programming.

He found that looking at her made his circuits run a little more smoothly, and that in turn made him more eager to complete other tasks. That's how it had been when they'd worked together in Dr. Lannings lab at USR, and later at Detective Spooner's.

He found that by watching the way Spooner reacted to her, and vice-versa, he could learn a lot about how humans related. Though some of the subtleties were too faint, even for him. For example, when Spooner joked about Dr. Calvin's eating habits, she told him she wouldn't talk since he seemed to have his head firmly planted in sweet potato pie tins half of the time. There was a funny look on Spooner's face, but then he grinned, nodding, as though in approval. Why would there be acceptance in being insulted, he wondered.

He had meant to get some clarification on that exchange later, but things had gone terribly wrong. If only he could manage to remember exactly what occurred.

Setting the bacon on the plate to drain, he decided to fry up a couple of eggs. They were going to have a lot of work to do, and he knew she couldn't work very well on an empty stomach. It wasn't her usual fare of black coffee and tiny bowl of shredded wheat, but he hoped she would at least give it a try.

Why was she so strange, he pondered, attempting to plate the food in an attractive manner. He tried to retrace the entire evening's events, hoping that somehow he could pinpoint when it all went wrong. Sonny really didn't want to be in her disfavor; in fact, he felt as though walking in a minefield of nanites would be far simpler.

He passed by the living room en route to Susan's, and paused a moment. This was where it had begun, where she acted one way and suddenly changed.

_She was studying a picture, right around...here, _he set down the tray and lifted the photograph, studying it as though it might talk back and give him a clue to her behavior. Try as he might, it wasn't being anymore forthcoming than she was. He processed the faces and opted to study it again a little later.

He sighed, and continued on his way to her room.

"Dr. Calvin?"

She was about to open the bedroom door, but paused. She had treated Sonny deplorably the night before. She was surprised he was even speaking to her, and she felt bad. He probably thought she hated him, and he certainly didn't need her teaching him how to become a neurotic, depressed being. Love is too bothersome, too problematic. If I can just keep my feelings to myself, (I have for all these years) there will be no need to worry about treating the one I love like a piece of useless machinery.

Uh-oh.

The one I _love _?

Bravo, Susan. You are now well on the way to making a complete and total ass of yourself, she admonished.

"I have made you breakfast. May I enter?"

"You can come in, but on one condition," she replied. She watched as he came in; his movements were tentative, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with his body. Obviously, he was extremely uncomfortable with her.

Try as she might, she couldn't help feeling a slight perverse pleasure at that. He didn't have feelings for her, she had been there before, and as long as she didn't try to put faith on useless and unnecessary emotions, she would be appropriately secured against further illogical responses.

_There will not be a repeat of Ashe, even if the object of my affection is not exactly what one might consider human._ She sighed, and investigated the offerings on her tray.

They had an important task, find Del Spooner, and they were going to succeed, and then she was going to salvage what was left of her job at USR. And stay locked in her lab, doing what she did best.

Cold, hard, analytical research.

Her heart was steeled, and she felt properly armed for any emotional discomfort it might sustain. At least her abbreviated rest prevented the appearance of disturbing dreams. She wasn't going to invite such opportunities any longer.

That decided, she didn't want to risk Sonny's already fragile state just because he wasn't attracted to a human. She didn't want to risk another Herbie incident. If her guilt about that was tremendous, she shuddered to think what it might be in regard to the NS-5. She wasn't going to find out.

"What is your condition, Dr. Cal-"

"That's it, right there. I have called you Sonny from the very first time we met each other. I really don't mind you calling me Susan."

He couldn't think of a reply, but his subtly handsome features gave him away; he was very pleased.

He set the tray down, and waited. It wasn't her usual meal, but it looked delicious. The food was perfectly prepared, even if it wasn't what she usually ate in the morning, or anytime for that matter. Nonetheless, it piqued her appetite enough to want to tear into it, and she did.

Unsure of what to do, but knowing that just standing around would make him look foolish, he started talking.

"I noticed in your visits to Detective Spooner that your usual breakfast consisted of a small bowl of shredded wheat and black coffee. I'm afraid that I was unable to find any of the former, but made a large pot of the latter."

She looked up from her rapidly emptying plate. She couldn't help but smile at the charmingly sweet expression he wore. "I appreciate the effort," she replied with a mouthful of egg.

Sonny thought it would be impolite to just stand there, waiting for her to finish eating, and left.

-

Darkness, and a musty smell flooded his senses. He tried to move, but something was keeping him from doing so. It was impossible to see, and even if he were able, there still wasn't enough light to find a way out. His hands were bound with a most unusual material; the harder he tried to pull free, the tighter they became.

Del Spooner was in deep trouble.

His senses were dulled, most likely from the sedative he'd been shot with. There was the barest patch of light shining in the far corner. He quelled a natural impulse to creep toward it, though. There could be heard the faint sounds of footsteps just beyond, and he didn't want his awakening discovered just yet.

He tried to fathom just how long he'd been there, but his drug-addled mind wouldn't allow it. He tried to recall just what he'd been doing prior to the attack, who had he been with?

Not Marcie, it wasn't Thursday yet. Not any of his friends from work...no. But wait, it was a friend, it was...

"Oh, hell no," he muttered at the realization. Sonny should have protected him, that's what those damned Laws were for, weren't they? But, if what if he _had _tried, and failed...

"Then where the hell is he?" He doubled his efforts to get loose, his mind a little less impaired, especially in the face of that new event.

A rattling at the door, and he was at once focused on the here and now. He slowly moved his hands to the floor, not wanting to let on to what he'd been trying to do.

The door opened, and painfully bright light flooded the room. A rather wide-set man entered, keeping his face in the shadows.

"Good to see you're awake, Mr. Spooner. It would've been much fun to do this while you were out, as it were," he laughed cruelly.

He sounded familiar, but Del couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard that voice before.

"We were going to have a visitor here tonight, but I convinced her to let me...talk to you first. I know you are probably starving, but there will be time enough for that later. Right now I've some questions, and you are going to answer them," he continued, placing a small briefcase on the table next to him.

Del's eyes followed the older man's movements. The case opened, and though he could barely see, he knew that whatever was inside wasn't going to be good for him.

As if that single thought was exactly what was needed to set him free, the binding on his wrists fell away.

Let's see if this ol' arm is still operational, he thought before making his move.


	5. Riddles and Revelations

Authors Note: This was by far the hardest chapter to write; I had an unfortunate loss in my family, and it seemed that the longer I was away from this, the more likely I was going to scrap the whole thing. It was thanks to some of my good friends on Greatest Journal and most especially Patchworkdove, that I found the momentum I needed to continue. So much momentum in fact, that I wound up with waaay too much for one chapter! So, I've gone ahead and split up the two; chapter six will be done very shortly. Thank you so very much for your kind words and encouragement; I hope you especially enjoy this installment!

Disclaimer: I, Robot is the property of the estate of Isaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

* * *

After breakfast, Sonny cleaned up, marveling at how just the mundane activity served to bring him far more calm than he'd felt the last few hours. Susan had emerged from her room an hour ago, and was exploring the cabin. His ears picked up the sound of a door being opened, and a moment later, he could see her through the kitchen window, looking as though she was searching for something in the wildly growing shrubbery outside.

She looked beautiful, her normally pinned up hair was down and over her shoulders as she bent to examine the flora around the secluded cabin. Day had broken fully, but it still carried the chill of early morning, and she could only attribute that to the fact that they were at a much higher altitude here. Even though she was a good twelve feet away, he could see the goose bumps on her arms clearly. What possible reason could she have for not dressing properly? It wasn't as though they hadn't adequate clothing there. He was concerned for her well-being, and it wasn't just because his internal programing told him to do so. This was born of a sincere desire to ensure her safety, and something much more than that. He would feel an impossible emptiness if something bad should happen to her. He couldn't quite put a name to what his feelings represented, but the fact that they were there brought an indescribably warm sensation throughout his cores.

He spent so much time gazing at her that he was certain she might catch him at any moment. He quickly turned his attention back to household chores. If she became aware of what was brewing within him, he was certain that she would react with nothing short of disgust.

After all, she was human, warm to the touch, soft, delicate, brilliant, pleasing to his optical senses, mental network, and a host of other senses he had no way of naming yet.

He was cold, mechanical, unsure of his place in the scheme of things, but certain that it would never, could never, include such a wondrous creature as Susan Calvin by his side. She would be there for him, of that he was very certain. Just not in the way that he most wanted.

She looked as though she'd stepped right out of very old film, the wind starting to play about her, causing her hair to take on a life of it's own. Film... they had been watching one when things had gone horribly wrong. He paused in his appraisal of Susan to see if he could figure out what had happened last night.

_Movie playing...so much he didn't understand, but his friend patient, helpful, pausing the old-style dvd to explain... asking many more questions... too many most likely, but that could not be helped for it was his inquisitive nature, working overtime... _

But that was all he could grab hold of. And it was scarcely enough.

Why can't I remember? He nearly shouted in frustration.

Finished with cleaning, he turned his attention on the photograph from last night. There was something about what was written that he felt he should know what it represented, but the parts of his memory that might hold the information were also the same that were obviously damaged. There was really only one way to get to the bottom of this, and it concerned _her._ He would have to ask for her help again, and hope that this time, things were sufficiently patched between them to make for better results.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Del stilled himself, pretending that he was still bound, while his mysterious captor continued to babble. The large man would never allow himself to step out of the shadows caused by the too bright light in the hall, keeping his face obscured. Del watched as he busied himself with whatever was waiting inside that ominous looking case, making a final connection here, realigning a wire there. The man knew exactly what he was doing, and seemed to be having too much fun preparing what the detective was certain was an instrument of torture.

"Now then, Mr. Spooner, if you'll just allow me a moment to apply these to your arms-" _these_ being a wicked-looking pair of skewer-thin electrodes, the tips of which were needle sharp and presently headed straight for him. Not being one to enjoy even the _idea _of making contact with sharp objects, Del knew it was now or never. He slowly moved his arms so that they were now holding steady against his side instead of behind him.

Del felt the odd rope-like material fall away from his sore wrists. Part of him knew it was most unusual for them to just unbind without any kind of real effort. In fact, he hadn't had to exert any manner of force at all to remove them. He merely wished them undone.

And it was done.

"I suppose it is rather rude of me not to introduce myself, Mr. Spooner. Please accept my most sincere apologies, I'm usually a much better host. The name's Connor Keening, and you," he continued, coming nearer, "are going to be a tremendous help to the SOH."

SOH. Where had he heard that before? He felt as though he hadn't had a decent meal in days, though he was certain he had only been missing barely a day. It was making it extremely hard to think, however, and information he could usually recall on short order was now incredibly elusive. Something about a case he'd worked on, and not too long ago at that. Young punks involved in organized mayhem, something about humanity...

"Whoa, hold on there cueball, you're one of them? One of those freaks from the Humanity thing? I knew y'all were a little cracked, but I didn't think you were prone to kidnapping and threats of bodily harm!" He knew Keening hadn't noticed that he was now unbound, and that was going to be his way out.

The element of surprise.

A loud ringing sounded, and Del's captor frowned in exasperation.

"What is it? Yes...yes I am, well, _trying to_, anyway...no, no that won't be necessary, oh damn! Now the doorbell...yes, yes...look I'm going to have to call you later, after I'm done."

He stormed out of the room, and Del wondered for half a second whether fate was actually being kind, or if he should proceed with caution..

Firmly deciding to hell with fate or caution, he stood up, shaking free of the last of the ropes. They fell to the cold floor, promptly dissolving. What kind of material was that, and how would a man that supposedly was part of a society that had no use for such technology in possession of it?

As interesting as those riddles were, he understood that time was the most important factor to consider at the moment. For instance, why had his captor suddenly taken off, leaving the door wide open? Was it a trap? So many things had happened, it was becoming more and more easy to look a gift horse in the mouth. He stood up, and moved closer to the door frame, his eyes much better adjusted to the harsh light beyond. There appeared to be no other people in the immediate area; he had the distinct impression that Keening would be the sort to do his dirty work all on his own. Del slipped from the room and moved carefully into the hall. He originally thought that the light's effect on his eyes was due to an extended period spent tied up in a cramped, light-deprived room. He now was beginning to realize that the whole path beyond was awash in artificial, hyper white incandescence. Fighting off a keen desire to shield his eyes, he pushed down the hallway, trying to ignore the fact that the light was doing much more than just making him a little uncomfortable. It was playing with his mind, and making him severely disoriented. Was this the reason for such a security system, surely that was what it had to be. What other use could there be for such an intrusive lighting system?

There was precious little time to ruminate over the oddities of his surroundings; he was certain his "host" would return at any moment, and though his arm was quickly getting back to full use, even he didn't possess enough bravado to test it out. In fact, the longer he stayed bathed in the unnatural light, the more he was amazed at how he was even able to conquer VIKI and get out of USR with all of his parts still intact. Just the thought of what had occurred made him pause, and suddenly he was filled with nothing short of terror. He was certain that if he had to face a similar situation again, he would completely and utterly fail. There could be no other way for him. He was a failure after all, wasn't he? He couldn't save that poor eleven year old girl, no, because he was too occupied getting _rescued_ by some dirty robot that only operated on logic. But not reason, never that. It was as impossible to them as editing sweet potato pie out of his life would be to him. And look how easy it was for them to be swayed! One moment they are the epitome of helpfulness and selfless servitude to humans, the next, cold, calculating, incredibly strong and able to kill with out a second thought, and all because someone (or in VIKI's case, some_thing_) flipped a switch.

Thinking it would be in his best interests to do so, Del pressed himself against the wall, seeking out even the slightest bit of security. Did he imagine, or was the wall really that warm? He pressed harder against the abnormally hot surface, raising his arm to shield from the light that was causing more than a little distress. It was sapping him of energy, his breathing becoming shallow and labored. A fine rivulet of perspiration trickled down his face; though he tried to fight valiantly, it was to no avail. He sank lower to the floor; impossibly, the light grew ever brighter and more harsh in intensity, until even the contrast of his smooth mocha-colored skin no longer appeared.

Only the light, burning his eyes now as if he had somehow traveled too close to the sun, remained, and even his faith in his own reality faltered. Del was so consumed with the vestiges of madness that he failed to notice that he was no longer alone in the hallway; that someone was approaching closer, a loud rumble roaring in his ears masking the echo of heels over linoleum, the subtle 'whoosh' of linen and wool, the soft dulcet tones of a woman's voice raising and falling in hushed terror...

"Mr. Spooner, Mr. Spooner...please, wake up...you must wake up now!"

He opened his eyes slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. How long had he been unconscious, a minute, an hour, a day? There was no way he could tell on his own. Everything feel too real, hyper real. He was lying on an impossibly soft surface, and at first he thought he was on a very well-made sofa. He certainly wasn't in the dark, cellar-like room he'd been in before. It was all too strange, almost as though he'd awakened into a whole different reality. The light here was normal, unobtrusive. The coverings over him were of the finest quality, and he realized with a start that he was no longer clothed as he had been before. He lifted the blankets to find that he was now clad in a simple but uncomfortable pair of linen pants, and nothing else.

He placed the blankets down again and finally took notice of the young woman seated to his left. She was, to put it quite simply, beautiful. Her modestly cut wool suit was simple, but very well made. She wore her hair down, and at first what he took to be chestnut was actually a deep midnight shade. The contrast it made with her pale porcelain skin lent her a further ethereal appearance. She seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being, but he knew better than to take anything at face value.

After a time, he found enough strength to speak.

"Where the hell am I?"

o-o-o-o-o-o

Susan walked along the grounds, hoping the crisp, cool air would help sort her thoughts. There had to be something, anything that would help them unlock the memories that lay buried within Sonny. Discovering what happened the night previous was the key to finding Det. Spooner, and she was determined not to let her current lapse in logic stand in the way.

It was quiet outside, just the thing to help her gather and organize her wayward thoughts. Not that it wasn't within the cabin, but inside there was _him. _And right at the moment, she was not yet prepared to share the same space, hadn't properly steeled herself. She needed to be able to help, she needed to be effective, and her current behavior frustrated her to say the least.

Wayward thoughts seemed to be something that she was becoming increasingly aquatinted with. She tried to remember the last time in her life when she was so confused, so scattered. Any time when she had been so tied up in knots over a situation that she couldn't devote her cool mentality to something else more meaningful, and far less daunting.

There was no precedent.

This was perhaps the most confounding time in the brilliant doctor's existence, and with all of her formidable skill and training, she was no better equipped to handle the onslaught than a first year psych student. Walking usually did wonders to clear her mind, at times even more than her usual method of running through increasingly complicated computations. She absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair, a growl of frustration released at the realization that she neglected to bind it before she left the cabin. It would scarcely do her any good to maintain an air of control and respectability if she couldn't even remember to fix her bothersome tresses.

'_You're out here, in the middle of nowhere, Susan, who's going to notice, or care,'_ She argued with herself. Really, they hadn't been out of the City even 24 hours, and already she was beginning to exhibit signs of mental instability. There was no one to notice, certainly not her house mate.

He literally wasn't wired that way.

She sighed, heading back towards the cabin.

Now wasn't the time to ruminate over her insignificant feelings toward a certain self aware robot. He was just getting used to having feelings himself, and how treacherous and difficult she would make things if he knew how she regarded him! Why did she even feel the way she did? It made no sense, was completely illogical, and had no value in her previously ordered existence.

"Physician heal thyself indeed,_" _she muttered as she crossed the threshold that lead to the kitchen. Disordered thoughts were hardly her usual mode of operation, and she was damned if they were going to muck up the works now.

"Susan, are you all right?" She jumped at the calm tones spoken behind her; she hadn't noticed he was there when she first entered. He moved gracefully and quietly until he was almost against her. She had grabbed a cup to get a little coffee for her nerves; it was quivering in her hands now, and she found herself expending a great deal of effort to set it back down on the counter. Why in the world was he so close, anyway? She could hear him quite well enough from across the room. And why was she trembling like some idiotic schoolgirl? This really was getting out of hand, and Susan came to the conclusion that if she didn't get a grip, and fast, Sonny was going to find himself without yet another ally, and Del would never be found in time.

Why she had the distinct feeling he was in imminent danger, she couldn't be certain, but the feeling that he was was nothing short of overwhelming. He solved the mystery of how Dr. Lanning died, he helped to defeat VIKI, and probably just as astounding to him as it was to her, he grew to respect and admire Sonny. She owed him that, and they hadn't long known each other, but she was becoming more and more used to the idea of Del Spooner as friend.

The thought of him being in peril seemed to break her from the thoughts she'd just as soon rather not be entertaining, and she turned, finding herself staring into a pair of luminous and soothing blue eyes. He looked back at her with nothing but the purest of concern, and when she failed to find her voice, he added,

"You appear to be in distress. Would you like to lie down for a while?"

_Oh dear._


End file.
